Historically, my personal blog has served as a forum on which I can make my good intentions public. This makes going back on my promises much more difficult/publicly embarrassing.
I am currently trying to give up smoking once again, and reading back the smug blog from myself six months ago is hugely frustrating. The ease and confidence with which that self-satisfied alter-ego condemns my habit is downright rude.
I have also, despite having written blog entries praising myself on my ability to maintain a thriving long-distance relationship, found myself single for the first time in a very long time.
And this time I'm determined to see if I can find some merit in this 'single life' that I hear so many people praising.
What do we single people do on Sundays? Sundays I have always reserved for driving to a remote village somewhere, finding a sickly-charming café and record shopping in a never-been-looted junk shop. Sunday is lovers' day. Sunday is morning sex and evening sofa-cuddles.
A bottle of wine shared after a particularly trying day at work is far more relaxing than a bottle of wine binged upon while trawling deeper and deeper through the annals of Facebook, the stream of which seems to be filled exclusively with evidence that my exes are all coping with single life far better than I am.
But this is a time for productivity, not staring wistfully backwards. The most successful times for me romantically have historically been the least successful times for me creatively and, thankfully, the opposite is proving to be true.
I listen to advice and it all tries to reassure me with the same promise. When I am not actively looking for romance and when I am 'happy within myself' then true love will come knocking on my door...well neither of those things are EVER going to happen, so embrace 'single life' it is.
A quick Google search confirms my depressing assumptions. The advantages listed online seem to mainly assume that all women are nagging bitches, prone to wild mood swings and that all men long to have hollow and meaningless sexual encounters with nameless strangers. One even tries to comfort me with the promise that I can "gain weight without worrying." Jesus Christ.
So I am trying to get myself out of the habit of feeling like nothing has any validity until it is shared with someone else. Read more. Work more. Maybe even have a stab at that 'happy within myself' hypothesis. Ultimately, try to resist the inevitable act of replacing girlfriend functionality with my cat, despite how pragmatic it may be as the winter months creep in.
Currently juggling numerous musical projects, fresh from my first number one record as a songwriter, reading books I never dreamed I would tackle, 30 hours into the new Zelda game and spending my time with long-neglected friends, I recommend embracing the single life as if it were your dream partner.
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